


And one went alone

by 0positiv



Category: Dark Is Rising Sequence - Susan Cooper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 22:12:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7124392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0positiv/pseuds/0positiv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will has not kept in contact much with Bran or the Drews but there were two instances when he met a few of his old friends again.<br/>Two different meetings, within the same continuum, but at different times. Because what is tomorrow or yesterday to an Old One but one and the same?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merriman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merriman/gifts).



> I hope you like my offering, dear recipient :)

The first sign that it wasn't going to be an ordinary day was when his mother shouted for him to come to the phone.

He hardly ever got phone calls, most of his friends didn't live far away and tended to just drop by.

When his mother handed him the receiver and mouthed "Jane Drew" Will just stared at her for a second. He'd had no contact with any of the Drews for about four years.

"Yes", he said as he put the receiver to his ear. It comes out more warily than he'd intended.

"Um...hi, Will, I'm sorry to just call you like this, out of the blue, and it's been such a long time...it's Jane, by the way, Jane Drew. We met on holiday? In Cornwall?"

She sounds scared, he thought, and very unsure.  _Oh Jane, what kind trouble has found you after all this time?_

"Of course, I remember. It's been a while, Jane, how are you? How are Simon and Barney?"

He made his voice as light and carefree as he can with the feeling of foreboding that's growing in his stomach.

His mother smiled at him and moved over to the table to pretend to read the paper while eavesdropping shamelessly. He was used to it. There was no real privacy in a family as big as theirs. And his mother had been bothering him about finding a girlfriend for a while now.

Jane seemed take aback by his tone for a moment.

"They're ok, doing well at school and everything. Me, I don't know, it's why I'm calling...though I'm not really sure why I'm calling  _you_ ...and I'm sorry if it's a bad time. ..I don't want to impose...I really shouldn't have called."

Will smiled and stopped her babbling with a quiet: "Just tell me what's wrong, Jane."

It did the trick and he could hear her catching her breath.

There was silence on the line for a while.

"I don't think I can talk about this on the phone. It doesn't feel safe, somehow. Could we meet? I know it's the holidays and you must have plans and I'd understand if you didn't have time or didn't want to go to all that trouble. ."

Will thought he'd never heard her that insecure before.

"Actually I was thinking about going to London on a day trip anyway. Look at universities, or something. I can meet you there somewhere? Would the day after tomorrow be soon enough? "

"Oh yes, of course, whenever is best for you. I'm really glad you're coming. "

He could hear the relief in her voice as she tells him the address of a café.

  
  


"I have these dreams. They started four years ago and they always come around the same time of the year, for three nights, each time. Exactly three nights. I keep a diary, I know that's very little-girl-ish but it helps and it's useful for things like this. I wrote down every dream. "

She didn't look at him as she talked. She was afraid she'd see disbelieve or worse mockery in his eyes. She pulled apart the scone on her plate instead then put down the pieces uneaten in a neat row. Her tea was untouched and slowly going cold. She didn't care because she felt like anything she'd swallow would make this nausea even worse. She knew she looked too thin, exhausted, like she'd not slept much and eaten even less.

Which was nothing less than the truth. Those dreams always left her with a sense of danger, a knot in her stomach that made even the thought of food intolerable. And they drained all her energy, leaving her tired and weak all day afterwards.

She finally looked up at Will and it once again hit her how much he looked exactly like she remembered. He was still so wholly, totally, aggressively  _ordinary_ .

She was relieved to see only guarded interest on his round face instead of the mockery she had feared. Simon had laughed at her when she'd told him that the dreams worried her.

_But you've never laughed at me, have you, Will Stanton? You've always taken everything I said seriously, even when we were children. You've always taken_ _**everything** _ _seriously._

Will took a sip of his own tea then pushed his hair out of his eyes with a gesture she so clearly remembered from his younger self.

“What are those dreams about, then? Sounds like they are more like nightmares, if they leave you so out of sorts.”

Jane rubbed her forehead, trying to rub away a very persistent headache.

“That's just the thing...they aren't really nightmares, not the way I usually have nightmares. They are neither good nor bad, they just are. And they scare me like no nightmare ever has.”

She poked the pieces of scone around on her plate until they form a circle while she tried to find a good way to put her feelings into words.

“Do you remember that holiday when we met? How they built this big figure of sticks and leaves and blossoms and called it the Greenwitch? My dreams....they feel a bit like it felt sitting there in the flickering firelight, watching them built it. There is just this sense of...otherness, of something beautiful and terrible, powerful and childlike, good and bad, old and young, all at once. And the sea, I always smell the sea.”

She shrugged, helplessly. She'd run out of words yet her head was so full of images and feelings she had no way of expressing.

Will made a non-committal noise and stared past her, deep in thought. She took the moment to watch him again.

He reminded her of someone, she thought. Someone warm and reassuring yet strangely aloof like he wished he could care more about the world around him yet for some reason just could not manage it. Someone who so often seemed to be deeply lost in thought or listening to something she couldn't hear.

_He reminds me of Gummerry, that's it. He's always taken me serious as well, no matter what I told him. And he's always made me feel safe and protected. Will has that same aura._ _It doesn't feel like we're about the same age, it feels like he's older and stronger. Safe._

Will's attention shifted back to her and she thought she could nearly physically feels his gaze on her skin. It felt like he was touching her without moving so much as a hand towards her, like he was touching her with his mind.

_Get a grip, Jane, you're starting to sound like some mad poet._

“And you've had these exact same dreams for four years? What made you call me this time when you didn't before?”

Jane had to look away again, his eyes were too knowing, too deep, too old, for his young everyday face.

“Because they're not _exactly_ the same every year, it's more like they get stronger each time. It feels like they are pulling me in a little more each night - and this is going to sound silly – and I fear that soon I won't be able to leave them, they'll take me away.”

She reached down into her bag and pulled out a hawthorn twig. She twirled it in her fingers thoughtfully for a second before holding it out to Will.

“I found this on my pillow after the first dream of this year. And it scared me so much I felt like I couldn't breath any longer. And at that moment, when I was so very scared, the only thing on my mind was _I need to tell Will, Will can protect me_. I don't know where that thought came from, why you'd be the first one on my mind. I hadn't talk to you for so many years, and I must admit I hardly ever thought about you or those holidays. But at that moment, when I thought I'd go mad with fear, I remembered your face and I felt...calmer, safer.”

She shrugged, embarrassedly, and looked up at him again.

Will was staring at the twig she was holding out like he was wondering if it would bite him. After a while, when Jane was already thinking of putting it back in her bag, he finally reached out to take it.

His hand was shaking a tiny bit right before he touched it, she thought, and as soon as he'd taken it out of her hand his eyes seemed to lose focus, like he were listening to something only he could hear.

  
  


_**Why do you disturb me, Old One? You have no right...no power...the Light is gone and the Dark is gone but I remain. Forever, always.** _

Will shivered as his mind touched this creature of the Wild Magic at the same time as his hand touched the token it had left with Jane.

_Greetings, Greenwitch. I mean no harm, and I am sorry for disturbing you. But you are overstepping your boundaries. Jane Drew is not yours to take._

A wave of anger hit Will, so strong it makes him dizzy.

_**She's mine now, the Light threw her away. She's no longer under your protection. She's mine...mine...** _

_She is still one of the Six, even if she has no memory of it. The Wild Magic has no right to her, she's under the protection of the High Magic. Leave her alone._

Feelings flooded through him again, loneliness and coldness and longing. They were strong and untameable as the sea and he knew that he could never hold back that tide. It might even cause him some damage should he try to. So instead he let them flow through his mind without allowing them to touch him, like he was merely a conduit.

_**She gave me a gift, a secret, like she promised. I found it, it's mine now, forever. She made a wish for me, I gave her my old secret. She owes me.** _

Will felt the desperate loneliness again and suddenly knew what this creature of the Wild Magic wanted, what it craved. Something it had no word for because it is a thing of humans, not a thing of the sea. There is no friendship in the deep oceans where the Greenwitch has to live. And never before had anyone touched this creature's heart like Jane had. Jane had shown the Greenwitch that it must not be cut off from humans, that it can communicate with them. And Jane had shown it kindness and care like no one before and most likely no one since.

All the Greenwitch wanted was a friend.

_She will die, you know, if you bring her to you? She can not live underwater. Is that what you want for her? Is that how you would repay her kindness?_

_**She's mine, she called to me, she touched me. Then she left me, but I found her again. I found her...** _

_Shall we strike a bargain, you and I, Greenwitch? I am sure we can find a way that will be satisfactory for all involved. Or shall I have to appeal to Thetis to rein in her wayward child?_

  
  


The blank look on Will's face worried Jane, as did his white-knuckled grip on the twig in his hand. His body might have been right in front of her but Jane was sure his mind was far away.

She reached out a hand to shake him out of it then thought better of it. It did not feel  _right_ somehow to disturb him, it even felt dangerous. 

She folded her hands in her lab and just watched him. Every moment that passed without him even blinking made her more nervous, more afraid. Whatever it was that was sending her these dreams it clearly was powerful. What had she been thinking, giving Will that twig, giving that thing a way to reach him, too?

_And how do I know that? How do I know there is even anything behind those dreams? Am I going mad thinking there could be anything that would have such a power? And yet...and yet I know...I once knew...something._

She should never have called him, should never have put him in danger like this. What if it hurt him?

Yet at the same time she felt that no matter how powerful this being might be it could not hurt Will because in some strange way despite his very human and very ordinary face he seemed just as powerful. There was a blinding strength behind his eyes, a light that at once made her feel safe and afraid.

_He'll be fine, he has faced worse and survived, he's protected because he's needed. He's still here for a reason. He's here to...to..._

The thoughts slid away like tiny fish slipping through her fingers. Reaching for them felt like trying to hold on to water in her palm. And yet, for just a second, there had been a glimmer of understanding, of knowledge, of memory, that made sense of all of this.

_Why can't I remember? How did I know he would be able to help me? How do I know he's no more human than whatever is sending me these dreams?_ _**What** _ _is he?_

The sudden realisation made her shrink back against the back of her chair. If he was not human, what was he? All at once he did not seem so ordinary any longer, he did not seem as safe, and the light was cold and harsh and she knew it could burn her if she ventured too close.

_I have felt this way before, haven't I? I have looked at you and known that you were not like Simon and Barney and me, Will Stanton. When have I known this? Why can't I remember?_

The fear made her want to get up and run, run all the way back to her home and hide. Yet something kept her in that chair, something that also made her unable to look away from the blank and yet at the same time intense look on Will's face.

She didn't know how much time had passed before he suddenly blinked and dropped the twig onto the table. It could have been minutes or hours or just seconds.

And she realised something else as well: it had been entirely too quiet. There had been no sounds of cars passing, people chatting at the other tables, cutlery and china clinking, no car horns or sirens, not even birdsong. She only realised that absence now when the noise suddenly rushed back in, nearly deafening her.

Will smiled at her, he surely meant it to be reassuring yet it made a shiver run down her spine at how human he once again looked, at how perfect his mask was.

“What just happened? What are you?”

Her voice sounded weak and very frightened to her own ears. The smile on his face turned sad.

“Oh Jane, as always you see entirely too much. You should not have been able to step out of time with me just now, and yet...once touched by the High Magic you can never be quite like the rest of them ever again, not even after he took your memories. I am sorry I frightened you, Jane Drew.”

The words were echoing in her mind, bouncing around and taunting her with the feeling that once they would have made perfect sense. She knew they would still make senses if she could just  _remember._

Jane wrapped her arms around herself. She felt cold and realised she was shaking and sweating with fear.

“I don't understand. What's going on, Will, what are you talking about?”

He just reached out with one hand, the fingers extended towards her, with the same sad smile on his face.

“I deeply regret this Jane, but it is for the best. You'll remember only that we talked about your dreams and that they do not frighten you any longer now. They will not return next year, Jane, I can promise you that. Now forget.”

  
  


“Oh, will you look at the time? I am sorry I've kept you here so long, Will. There were things you meant to do, weren't there, and now I've talked away for so long about my silly dreams.”

Will asked for the bill and paid in cash.

“That's quite alright, Jane. I really enjoyed seeing you again. I hope I could help at least a little bit?”

Jane got up and shrugged on her coat before pulling him into an impulsive hug. 

“Yes, you helped me more than I could ever say. I feel so much...lighter now, like you have lifted a great weight off my heart.”

She held the hug for a while longer than she usually would have because just before she had taken him into her arms he had looked so sad and lonely it nearly broke her heart.

“I will call you again, Will, I promise, and then we can talk about normal stuff like school and university instead of silly dreams and fears.”

“I would like that, Jane.”

They said goodbye and parted ways, on their table remained a single forgotten twig that the wind soon carried away. 

  
  


 


	2. Chapter 2

_Some time in the 15_ _th_ _century, England_ , Will thought absent-mindedly as the fever made him shiver.

Just a random market day in a random city, maybe London, maybe not, it was hard to tell just by looking out of a window. He could have used other ways to make this moment in time tell him where he was but Will decided he did not particularly mind not knowing. So he just stood and watched the busy crowd below with mild amusement.

A coughing fit shook him and he was suddenly back in his own study.

As an Old One he had always been only loosely anchored in time. He might have been born in the 20 th century and in one sense he had travelled the nearly 35 years from his birth to this moment in time like every other man but in another sense he was as old as time itself. 

And time had not always run in a straight line for him. He remembered visions of the past intruding on a lazy summer day with his brothers, sudden shifts in time when he'd without warning find himself somewhere and somewhen completely different. He remembered a pair of tall doors and ethereal music.

There were many ways for an Old One to walk through time, some under his control, and some not.

And, as Will had found out only recently, having a bad cold seemed to sometimes lead to some uncontrolled and sometimes rather amusing jumps in time.

Since the other Old Ones had left he hadn't had much reason to use his powers, he had mostly ignored that part of himself and lead a normal life. He had been told to watch, not act, after all. And since he could not be sure how much interfering was too much he would rather not risk it. He'd decided to live a mostly human life, just plain old Will Stanton from Buckinghamshire.

He had left home to become a veterinarian and by now had a small practice in a town in Wales, not too far away from the farm of his aunt Jen and uncle David.

The villagers were grateful for his presence even though he was English. Before he decided to settle there the next vet had been about a three hour's drive away. They had accepted him in their own quiet way and even though he was not a Welshman himself this was where Will had always felt the most at home. His family missed him, of course, and he missed them sometimes, but there were still big family get-togethers for Christmas or his parents' birthdays, now and then for a christening of one of his numerous nieces and nephews.

Another coughing fit made him bend over with pain and when he could stand straight again and his head had stopped spinning he found himself high up on a hill overlooking a meadow where a flock of sheep was dozing in the summer sun.

Whistling and barking made him turn around and he spotted two forms coming up the hill towards him. One belonged to a shepherd's dog with long dark fur and the playful, energetic manner of a young animal. The other was moving much slower and had just thrown a stick for the dog to fetch.

_Bran,_ Will thought with a start,  _about 20 years ago, it should be. He's so young still. Was I ever that young...?_

And indeed his friend was still a boy in this time, not yet 14 years old, if Will had to guess. He had changed very little from the child he remembered from that eventful holiday when he was twelve.

They hadn't stayed in contact much, really. Will didn't know exactly what Bran remembered of the time they spent together and he didn't want to accidentally bring up things his friend had been made to forget. So he had let things fade to a holiday friendship, had become just the boy who used to visit his aunt's farm and spent some time with the only other child his age living there. Nothing special, a fleeting acquaintance at best.

They had exchanged a few letters and cards on birthdays and Christmas, making vague promises to see each other again. Yet Will never went back to the farm and Bran never asked if he could visit him in turn.

When Bran went away to college the letters soon stopped, too, and Will himself was soon too busy with his own studies to try and restart the correspondence. And he had to admit that it was also less painful this way. He didn't have to be reminded of the close friendship they had once shared, of the adventures they'd had and about the fact that Bran didn't remember any of it, by his own choice.

And now coincidence had brought him here, to a young but very mortal Bran.

_There is no such thing as coincidence, Old One,_ Will berated himself. If his inner voice sometimes sounded a lot like Merriman that was surely an absolute coincidence...

He was sure of one thing, though. That he was here for a reason, he just didn't know which reason that was, yet.

Having delivered the stick back to his master the dog bounced back up the hill to investigate the stranger who had suddenly appeared there. He made a curious circle around Will, never coming close enough to be within reach. His tail was wagging slowly and his whole body showed curiosity but no fear.

Finally he stopped and sat down in front of Will, tilting his head to the side and looking up at him questioningly.

Will didn't recall having seen the dog the last time he had visited the farm but then that had been nearly two years before this point in time. Surely he could have only been a very small puppy back then if he had been born yet at all.

Bran came jogging up the hill as well now. He told the dog off in Welsh for cornering strangers, his voice young and high still, no sign yet of a voice break. Will felt dizzy again suddenly as that voice brought back so many memories. It felt like only yesterday that he had last heard it.

He stumbled slightly and grabbed a nearby fence post to stop himself from falling. No illness could kill an Old One but this one was surely doing its damnedest to be a bloody great nuisance.

“Are you alright, Sir”, Bran asked first in Welsh, then when Will didn't react right away, he asked a second time in English.

Eyes that Will knew to be tawny looked at him warily and slightly suspiciously through very dark glasses.

The book of Grammarye had taught Will how to understand and speak any language should he want to and his years living in Wales had taught him some of that language in the slow and non-magic way yet with the fever clouding his mind he could not find the strength to answer the question in Welsh. English would have to do.

“I felt a little faint just there, I'll be fine in a minute.”

Will managed a weak smile, the world still spinning slightly. The dog whined and made as if to step closer to Will and comfort him yet his masters command kept him rooted to the spot. He was a good dog, obedient and caring.

Bran didn't look like he believed Will.

“Are you sure? You don't look too good.”

Will gave in to gravity and sat down heavily on the grass.

“I've caught a bit of a cold, nothing to worry about really. I thought some fresh air might be good for me but I think I overdid it a little. I'll just rest here a while, if that's ok, and then I'll walk back to my car. It's just a short drive to my hotel.”

The lies came easy and since he was speaking English playing the tourist was the simplest way to explain his presence here. Did Bran feel reminded of the English boy who was recovering from hepatitis and had to rest every now and then as they played and fought the Dark in these hills? Will hoped not. The smallest thing can trigger a memory, even a memory that has been locked away by strong magic.

Bran seemed to contemplate their situation for a minute, his stance and gaze still wary. Will was glad not to find only the smallest trace of the arrogance that had so disconcerted him during his time with Bran. It seemed to have nearly vanished with Bran's memories of his birthright and left him a more light-hearted and approachable boy. Though Will knew that his unusual looks still made Bran an outsider just as they had before.

“Are you sure? I could go get my dad and we could drive you to your car or your hotel. He's not far away, just over there, helping John Rolands with the fence.”

Bran vaguely pointed behind himself in the direction of another hill.  _Very clever,_ Will thought,  _make sure the suspicious stranger knows you're not out here all by yourself while offering help at the same time._

“I don't want to be any trouble. I'm sure I'll be fine in no time. I'll just catch my breath then I'll be on my way.”

The world had finally stopped spinning, which Will was very thankful for.

“That's a great dog you've got there. What's his name?”

Bran scratched the dog behind the ears without taking his eyes off Will.

“He's my da's, really, but I'm teaching him and he's called Boots.”

He smiled a little embarrassedly at the name, most likely it had been his idea.

Will looked at the white markings on the front legs of the otherwise black dog and smiled.

“I think that is a very fitting name.”

Bran tilted his head in much the same way Boots had done a short while ago and looked closely at Will again.

“Have you been around here before? You seem very familiar somehow...”

Will shook his head.

“No, first time I've ever been to Wales. But you know, I've just got one of those faces. People always tell me I remind them of someone.”

He shrugged with a sheepish smile and hoped Bran would leave it at that.

Bran kept up his intense scrutiny for another second before he shrugged as well and threw the stick again for the dog. The animal had been getting restless and impatient with the humans and their boring standing around. Now he shot off after the piece of wood like a rocket, barking happily.

The boy sat down next to Will but still more than an arm's length away.

“Are you feeling a bit better? I think you look slightly less pale.”

Will nodded and flexed his aching arms before stretching them out over his knees.

“Yes, I do actually feel better. Maybe fresh air was what I needed after all?”

He turned his head to grin at Bran. He really shouldn't be feeling this easy camaraderie with a boy he hadn't spoken to face to face in about 20 years. And yet as soon as he'd set eyes on him it had felt like no time had passed at all, like he was still 12 years old and fighting the Dark with King Arthur's son and three English human children who were much braver than they should have to be.

_I do wonder what became of the Drews. Did Barney become an artist? Did Simon become a doctor? And Jane, is she happy now?_ They had never exchanged letters, and apart from that one time with Jane he'd not seen the Drews since they had lost their memories. 

He hoped that they were happy, it was the least the world could do for them after they had saved it. But he knew the world didn't work like that. The Dark and the Light were gone and neither the Wild Magic nor the High Magic cared about individual humans.

_And I can hardly say the Light ever cared, can I? It never cared for individuals,_ _**we** _ _never cared for individuals. There was no time or chance if we wanted to drive the Dark away for good. Every sacrifice that would ensure we won that final confrontation was acceptable._

Will realised that he'd been quiet too long. Bran was looking at him with a worried frown. Boots had returned with his stick already, Will couldn't say when.

“Maybe I should fetch my dad after all? I don't think we should let you walk around on your own. There really aren't many people in these hills if you need help.”

Will smiled with genuine thankfulness.

“It's very kind of you to care but I really don't want to cause any trouble. I'll take it slow. It'll be fine.”

Will stood up to demonstrate that he was indeed able to walk on his own but having to grab the fence post again when another wave of dizziness hit him rather ruined that impression.

Bran jumped up when he saw him sway and reached out to steady him. He mumbled something about stubborn English in Welsh before helping Will to sit back down.

“It really is no trouble at all. You just wait here and I'll go get my da.”

Will smiled up at his old brother in arms self-consciously.

“Well, if it's no trouble...I'd be grateful.”

Bran nodded and whistled for the dog to get up.

“Just wait here, we'll be right back.”

Will watched them run down the hill with the seemingly inexhaustible energy of youth.

Bran seemed happy, and much more carefree than he ever had while he still remembered his birthright and his destiny. Maybe his friend had made the right choice after all?

Could Will really begrudge him the wish to live a normal, human life without the constant burden of a greater destiny?

No, he didn't think that he could. Bran deserved a childhood, a chance to be happy, to have a family of his own. Maybe this was why he was here right now, to see that all was well, in the end.

He might have lost a friend but Bran had gained a life with endless potential.

The Light had won, humanity was free to chose its own destiny, and Bran was a shining example of what that victory meant.

“Goodbye, my friend. Maybe we shall meet again in the future or the past.”

Will sighed, closed his eyes and concentrated as hard as his fevered brain would allow.

He smiled at the fading strands of music that always eluded him as he travelled through time back to his lonely study.

What would Bran make of the vanishing stranger? Would they go looking for him? He thought they might. Both Bran and Owen Davis were good people, responsible people, they would not let anyone get hurt if they could prevent it. But they would not find him and the encounter would turn into a nice anecdote to tell at a night out at the pub, nothing more. Maybe a ghost story even.

Will thought he'd like that. It appealed to a mischievous side in him that he'd thought he'd lost when he'd grown up. Maybe seeing Bran again had brought back some of his own childhood?

Another coughing fit made him reach for the back of his armchair only to find himself gripping the side of a guillotine.

_Ok, enough is enough, tomorrow I'll go see a doctor about this damned cold..._

 


End file.
